For the Longest Time
by mickeylover303
Summary: It's been a long time coming, as far as Nick and Greg are concerned.  But Warrick makes a contribution, too.  Slash.


"So this is the big secret, huh?"

"Yep," Greg said, pushing Nick aside as he rushed to open the door to the house.

Warrick laughed as Nick backed away, the other man's shock evident as he tried to regain his composure. "You guys don't even have furniture, yet."

Nick moved past Warrick and nudged Greg into the house, guiding him by the shoulders when the younger man managed to open the door. "I'm with Pea – G, on this one." Nick laughed nervously at his almost slip up and dodged Greg's elbow, saving himself from questionable injury.

"PG?" Warrick asked, snorting at what he perceived to be a nickname. He supposed he'd heard worse things…not the he knew anything about those kinds of…things. No, Greg didn't blurt anything out accidentally, or purposely as it probably was. "Let's keep it that way."

"Come on, Warrick." Greg tilted his head to the side, raising his eyebrows in some kind of mock innocence. "Except for that one time, when have we ever-"

"There's something about all this open space, you know?" Nick decided to intervene before Warrick ran off. Warrick was…_important_ to his and Greg's transition. It was partly due to the fact that the three of them had become closer during the past year, but mostly because of Nick's pride and prejudice against movers.

"I guess…" Warrick trailed off as he walked past the entrance, surveying the small foyer and the expansive living room…by a CSI on his and Nick's salary, that is. Maybe working in the lab had its perks, after all? "You really need all this room, though?"

"Nah…it just looks big because there's nothing in it." Greg didn't think it was that big. On the contrary, he knew it would become increasingly smaller as time passed…especially when they brought their stuff into the house in a few minutes.

"Yeah, everything's in that big old moving van that's in your driveway," Warrick accused, knowing his friends had manipulated his services…or more specifically how Nick had manipulated his role as a friend. Personally, Warrick thought Nick's paranoia concerning hiring people to help you move made little, if any sense.

That was one thing Warrick and Greg agreed on.

"Probably the cleanest it's going to be, too," Nick remarked. Neither he nor Greg was necessarily sloppy, but they weren't the tidiest of people either.

"Like I'm the messy one," Greg scoffed, giving Nick a teasing smile before turning away and heading out of the living room. "It's just more to clean…we can't exactly afford professional cleaning."

"Because what you really need is professional help," Warrick retorted, moving a hand through his hair as he followed Nick and Greg into what seemed to be a kitchen. Not to mention it appeared as if they spent the majority of their money on the actual house. "Hey…this is the kitchen, right?"

"Yeah," Nick said offhandedly, watching Greg opening the cabinets, putting them on display for Warrick. "I know the fridge isn't here, yet." Nick ignored Warrick's snort. "Or the stove…but we had this one built from the ground up."

Nick sobered at the reminder, his mind falling back to the first day Greg came out of the hospital and Nick proposed living together. It was a risk, especially after the whole kidnapping ordeal. Because of the timing, he was somewhat afraid that Greg would see the proposal as some sort of compensation. And even though Greg hadn't initially agreed, Nick had managed to prove otherwise in end.

But only after a long session of disclosing of their relationship to their parents, which didn't end up as well as Nick hoped – for either side – but he did feel some sort of relief knowing that it was at least out there.

"Who designed this?" Warrick asked, now noticing that the stairwell was located just before the kitchen entrance.

"You like?" Greg turned around, walking to peer over Nick's shoulder as he stood in front of the two older men.

"It's…different."

"Blame me for that, then." Nick began to manoeuvre Greg out of the kitchen, hands resting on the other man's shoulders, once more. "I like the idea of the stairs near the kitchen…but blame Greg for the upstairs…I had nothing to do with that."

"No…it's not bad or anything," Warrick amended, cracking his knuckles as he made his way to the stairs. It just wasn't what he was expecting. He remembered seeing things like that on TV shows or maybe in other people's houses, but just never with people he knew. "Wait a sec…why am I going upstairs with you?"

"Because you'll like the second floor," Greg answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Do I even want to know why?" Warrick eyed Greg, not believing the nonchalance he was trying to project. If anything, Greg's lack of commentary made Warrick more wary. "Never mind, I-"

"Stop being so jumpy, man. You already missed the bedroom," Nick said, glad the electricity was at least wired as he reached for the light Greg neglected to turn on. It was still pretty early and not much light was offered.

"We spared you the grief," Greg teased, moving to pat Warrick on the shoulder.

"Thanks…really." Warrick shook his head as he made his way up the stairs, suspicious as he followed Greg and Nick. He didn't know where the bedroom was, and neither was he anxious to find out.

"Scared, Rick?" Greg taunted, passing Warrick and stopping in front of a closed door.

"Of course not…and don't call me 'Rick', Sanders." Warrick made a move the hit the younger man, to which Greg dodged, grinning madly. "I just don't necessarily trust you two."

Nick groaned in something that may have been called exasperation if he didn't have a wide smile on his face. Finally, reaching the end of the stairs, he moved past Warrick and Greg and into a new room, opening the door and allowing the morning light to flood the hallway.

It didn't look like anything more than empty space…empty space with beige carpeted floors and clean, white walls. A large window was centred in the back of the room. It consisted of four panes and reminded the three men just how early in the morning it actually was.

Warrick put a hand over his eyes, protecting them from the rays of the rising sun.

"This," Greg paused, spreading his arms wide as he moved to the centre of the room. "Is the _Game Room_."

"We actually haven't thought of a name for it," Nick said, putting a damper on Greg's histrionics, replacing it with his own version. "I just call it _The Room_."

Warrick didn't even bother to relate how much more dramatic that sounded. And apparently Greg felt the same as he moved the conversation.

"We're putting a flat screen in here, though. Hooking up the PS2…getting a really good sound system."

"Make the neighbours kick us out," Nick added, somewhat seriously. The house was pretty isolated as far as other people were concerned. He and Greg weren't exactly living in the backwoods – or the desert – part of Vegas, just a less urbanised…more geriatric type of community.

"Hold on…with what money?" Warrick asked, not forgetting the fact that one's salary posed certain limitations. Working as a lab technician didn't warrant _that_ much money…did it?

"It's a mutual investment," Greg answered, clicking his tongue at the two heads that turned toward him and the silence that followed his statement.

* * *

"That was fun." Nick allowed himself to fall backwards onto the bed, taking a chance and ignoring the squeaking of the springs as his body hit the sheets. He'd remind himself to write "new mattress" on the list of things to they still had to get. And he thought moving was the hardest part. It was the polishing – the fine tuning – that really took a toll. 

You never knew what you needed until you didn't have it…even if you never really needed it in the first place.

At least that's how Greg convinced him.

"If your definition of fun is hauling all that crap in here," Greg moaned, following Nick to the bed in a much more reserved manner, choosing to carefully lay himself down. "We just used our "help my friends move" card and I don't think Warrick is going to want to do us any more favours."

"I think this is the house we wanted…and I don't plan on moving anytime, soon."

"And go through that again?" Greg gave Nick an incredulous look. No, he wasn't moving anytime soon. If he and Nick were to…no, they would make anything wrong, right. He'd been through too much lately to deny himself anything this late in the game. But if that possibility did make itself known, Greg would just have to tie Nick to _their_ bed.

He wasn't letting Nick go that easily.

Nick placed his arms behind his head, stretching his legs out as he stared at his jeans in hopes that they would somehow magically disappear. "It was good exercise, though."

"That's why you were rubbing your back earlier." Greg smiled when Nick didn't have a retort, burrowing his head into a pillow and enjoying the softness. If only they had bought the new mattress when they bought the new pillows, then that would have been one less thing they would have to do tomorrow. "You're weird, you know that?"

"Because I didn't want to hire people to move _our_ stuff?" Nick hadn't actually had much experience moving, but the little experience he had wasn't the most agreeable. And to this day, he has yet to find his coffee maker. It didn't matter that he didn't use it often or not at all as Nick didn't get a chance to open it. It only mattered that somewhere between Texas and Nevada, Nick was never to see it again.

But Nick wasn't going to be fooled this time and there would be no shame on him.

"That, too," Greg tried to hide his laughter into the pillow, knowing he was unsuccessful when Nick gave him a gentle shove.

"Kettle, black." Nick snorted at the purposely blank look Greg gave him as he lifted his head from the pillow. "You call me weird? You're the Marilyn Manson fan."

"Who doesn't watch bird documentaries on the Discovery Channel."

Nick frowned. Although, he did enjoy watching bird documentaries, Greg didn't have to voice it with such disdain. As far as Nick was concerned, there was nothing wrong with being educated on the winter migration patterns of Rockhopper penguins in the Falkland Islands. He didn't understand why Greg didn't like it as much as he did. "…My clothes don't blind people."

Greg narrowed his eyes. It would have been a fair comeback if it was true. His clothes did not blind people. And plus, he was toning down in his wardrobe choices, anyway. He thought about that blue, green, and yellow striped shirt he had in the closet. People tended to forget he was young and highly impressionable when he made those decisions…even if he bought that shirt last month. "At least I don't raise cockroaches."

Nick nodded his head in agreement, now sitting up on the bed and leaning against the headboard. He looked at the floor warily. "I hope we don't have any here." Nick remembered the "small" outbreak in his apartment a few years ago. Of course, it was no fault of his. The tenant above was out for a few weeks and turned her refrigerator off without actually cleaning it out; somehow creating water marks on his ceiling and new nesting grounds for various insects. Nick was never really a fan of bugs, but that experience had further induced his dislike of them.

"Bugaphobe," Greg said, sitting up against the headboard…or would be if his legs weren't protesting.

"It's-"

"Entomophobe, I know." Because he knew an entomologist, Greg would be worried if he didn't know the correct terminology. Of course, he could have used other words conceived in his mind that were not yet in the American-English language dictionary, but for some reason, cockroach and phobia didn't really come together. "I just like the sound of _bugaphobe_."

"Again, you call me weird?"

Greg closed his eyes, facing away from Nick as he nodded sleepily, not really paying attention to Nick's words. "Who knew we had so much stuff?"

Nick knew question was rhetorical and for the most part, aimed at him – the majority of the _stuff_ was actually his – but he decided not to comment on that fact. "Tired?"

"I'm not…" Greg trailed off as he placed his hand over his mouth, covering his yawn. "Going to appease you with a response."

"Now you're making me yawn." Nick shook his head as he covered his mouth, as well. He took a glance at his watch. It was a quarter past nine, more than twelve hours after moving into a new home – their new home. And he and Greg were going to dirty the sheets because they were both drenched in sweat and neither felt like actually moving out of the bed to take care of personal hygiene until at least the morning.

The irony kind of wore off the novelty.

But then again, it reassured Nick that besides the new living accommodations, nothing had really changed.

"Strange case of lethargy put aside…" Greg turned back around to face Nick with a newfound energy. His elbow sank into the sheets as he propped his hand on his head, wearing a triumphant smile. "We did it."

Nick looked down at Greg, peering into eyes no longer estranged as they were five years ago, becoming as familiar as his own reflection. Dark and brown, he couldn't help but lose himself in them each and every time he dared to look.

"You're staring again," Greg spoke, taking Nick out his musings. "Are you really that tired?"

"What?" Nick brushed off the underlying concern with a small smile. "I can't stare at you anymore?"

Greg rolled his eyes, sucking his teeth in an attempt to hide his embarrassment. By all means, he wasn't necessarily shy, but even he couldn't handle all the attention Nick would give him…as if he was the only person in the world. Of course, it was what he wanted in the first place…

It would just take some time to actually get used to.

And they had time for that.

"Seriously, though…do you think we did the right thing?"

Nick turned to his side, leaning down to press his face against Greg's, rubbing their noses together and slightly increasing the pressure when the younger man tried to push him away. "You're not trying to get rid of me now, are you?"

"I don't know what makes you think I can handle your weight," Greg continued in his attempts to push Nick off him. The other man was now fully atop of him and Greg had no idea where he found the energy to move. "But you're going to end up suffocating me."

"You calling me fat, Peanut?" Nick asked, knowing the use of the nickname wouldn't bode well with Greg. He laughed when Greg bucked beneath him, not able to do much while held beneath Nick's body…until he started to kick against Nick, almost hitting the older man's stomach.

When Nick finally moved, Greg was sprawled across the bed, taking in deep breaths, exaggerating each inhale. "Air…precious air." He'd figure out how to get Nick for the name thing, tomorrow. He'd had to get oxygen back in his bloodstream, first.

"Dramatic."

"I wanted to at least make it through one night in my own house."

"Your house?" Nick asked, raising his eyebrows at the words.

"Take the _Y_ out."

"Lazy," Nick said affectionately, turning to face Greg and holding the other man's gaze. "We did do it, didn't we?" He knew what Greg meant the first time, but on some level, he couldn't quite comprehend it himself, how far they've both come.

It took half a day to move into the house and a year to plan for the move. But it was in those five years that they've known each other leading up to this moment that made it worthwhile. "It just took a long time." Greg reached for Nick's hair, running his hands through the dark strands and watching as Nick closed his eyes.

"I didn't mind waiting.

* * *

_:insert standard disclaimer here: _

_The second one in two days...but I suppose it doesn't count when it's already written. Again, this is one of those stories that is part of a bigger whole but can still be read separately. This whole "sharing a house" thing is mentioned much in the fics I've written that take place in season three and four. No, seriously, I'll get the timelime up, soon...I just don't like the idea of a long bio page...bleh._

_But the actual story...I think this was a point in my writing (in restrospect) where I started developing and becoming comfortable with my style and voice. I still have much work to do, but I think writing this was one of those moments._

_And the cockroach sentiment...when you're in a old (a hundred years) college dorm and people don't clean out their fridges during breaks - no matter how meticulous you are, you find them in your room. Yes, and it was awful. :insert histrionic shudder here:_


End file.
